


Addicted

by tatterwitch



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Priests, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Incubus Keith, M/M, Oral Sex, Priest Kink, Priest Shiro, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 15:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15271044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: Keith bares his fangs in a savage smile. He stuffs his pants into an adjacent realm and positions Shiro's cock. Shiro's eyes go wide as Keith lets his facade fade a little."What are you?"Keith huffs a laugh as Shiro's cockhead breaches him."Your ruination." He sinks down in one smooth motion.





	1. Chapter 1

Keith lingers in the church long after the last of the flock leave. He tucks himself into the shadows and...Waits.

Votive candles flicker around the room. The large statue of crucified Jesus stares down at Keith from the front of the hall. His faces seems wet with something, no doubt a reaction to Keith's presence. Keith smirks and gives the statue a rude gesture.

The heavy wooden doors shut. The sound resounds around the room like thunder.

Father Shirogane meanders back inside, picking up little leaflets and stray communion cups.

 

Keith admires the view whenever Shiro bends to pick something up.

 

It takes a moment before Shiro notices him tucked away in the shadows.

 

The man peers at him and offers another smile. "Hello. Can I help you?"

 

Keith saunters out from the shadows, his lips curved into something too sharp to be called a smile

 

He drags his fingertips along the edge of a pew. "I've some confessing to do, _Father_."

 

Shiro smiles again, a little lopsided as his brow creases. "Confessions take place before Mass but I can make an exception. Please, follow me."

 

Shiro leads Keith deeper into the church and his skin crawls uncomfortably. He ignores it in favor of watching Shiro disappear into the hidden compartment. His shoulders are almost to broad for the tiny doorway. Keith wants to feel all that muscle move beneath his claws.

 

Keith settles himself in the opposing side and sprawls over the tiny seat. Through the gauzy cloth and shadows, he can make out Shiro's profile. He wants to bite the sharp line of that jaw.

 

"Tell me what troubles you." Shiro's voice is soft, encouraging.

 

Keith grins into the darkness.

 

"Father....I've sinned."

 

"God will forgive you. Please. Confess in your own time. There is no rush."

 

Keith bites his lip and takes a breath. "I've sinned....A lot, Father. I've cussed. I've stolen."

 

 

"You are forgiven." Shiro's voice is soft and genuine. "I've fought. I've killed."

 

 

There's a moment of hesitation before Shiro speaks again.

 

"Life can be difficult. We do what is required of us. Sometimes those things are cruelly thrust upon us. But God is always with us. Let him comfort you."

 

 

Keith bites back a snort. God was a tosser.

 

"I've been envious. Prideful. I've lied. Cheated." Keith turns, tangles his fingers in the booth's window's slats.

 

 

His voice is a purr when he continues.

 

"I've been lustful." Keith lets his claws slide out.

 

They skate over the slats with a grating, whispery noise. He can _taste_ Shiro's turmoil, his lust and want, his fear. Keith wants to drink it in.

 

"I've been so lustful, Father. I can't stop. I feel so _empty_ all the time. I hunger for it. I hunger to be filled. To be _fucked_."

 

Shiro sits up abruptly and Keith's tongue runs over his fangs.

 

"God will forgive you for all your sins." Shiro's voice is hoarse and shakes a little. "Absolve yourself through prayer. Six 'Hail Mary's and 'Our Father's and some time over the pew will-"

 

Keith gathers his corporeal form and blinks into the tiny room adjacent to his.

 

He lands over Shiro's lap, knees knocking sharply into the back of the small bench. He tangles one hand into the front of Shiro's robes and rakes the other through Shiro's hair.

 

"I don't want to say those holy words." Keith leans in, inhaling along Shiro's throat. "I'd rather scream your name."

 

Keith grinds down on Shiro's lap and grins delightedly when he feels Shiro half-hard beneath his robes.

 

" _Oooohhhhhh_ ", Keith drags his claws along the seam of the robes. "Father...I do believe you're just as sinful as any other human."

 

Shiro swallows hard, throat bobbing. His hands are tight on Keith's hips but they haven't pushed him away.

 

Keith can taste Shiro's growing arousal and need. It drips down his throat like hot honey.

 

"You _want me_." Keith purrs as he rocks in Shiro's lap. "I can _taste_ how _badly_ you want me."

 

Shiro's lids flutter shut and then open. Sweat beads along his brow. _Damn him_ , Keith thinks as he grinds down harder. _Damn him and his virtue_. Keith nuzzles Shiro's jaw, wraps his teeth around the lobe of his ear and tugs.

 

"I can feel your cock against me, Father. Mhmmmm. You're _big_. I bet you'd split me open. Fill me right up."

 

Shiro's fingers are bruising on his hips. A soft noise drops from his mouth. Keith licks the line of Shiro's throat and hums at the salt on his skin.

 

Keith reaches a hand down between them.

 

Shiro rolls into the touch with a cry that echoes in the small room.

 

Keith rubs the hard line of his cock through the robes and skims his fangs over Shiro's jaw.

 

"You'll feel so good in me. Hot. Thick. I wanna taste you on my tongue. I wanna feel you in my throat. I wanna feel you come. I'll swallow every drop."

 

Shiro whimpers.

 

" _Please_."

 

Keith's grin is an unholy thing. His claws shred through the robes and skate over the bared skin of Shiro's chest. Keith yanks those stiff black slacks off and slides between Shiro's knees.

 

He wastes no time in licking a hot line up Shiro's cock. He watches Shiro's grey eyes go wide at the sight of his split tongue curling around the head. And then Keith wraps his lips over his fangs and sinks down.

 

Shiro yells. His head thuds against the confessional booth's wall. His fingers tangle in Keith's hair, nails scraping and tugging.

 

Keith takes Shiro to the base. He can feel Shiro sliding down his throat and he moans, flicking his eyes up.

 

Shiro's staring down at him, mouth open and round. His chest rises and falls rapidly. His belly trembles every time Keith swallows around him.

 

Keith clutches at Shiro's shaking thighs and bobs his head. Shiro's aura churns. Pleasure and turmoil twist alongside awe and raw need. The taste of all that mixes with the bitter-salt of Shiro's precum.

 

Shiro groans and squeezes his eyes shut tight. That is inexcusable.

 

Keith pulls off, relishing in Shiro's needy cry as he does. He takes Shiro in-hand and pumps lazily as he laps at the head.

 

"Look at me, Shiro."

 

Shiro's eyes open, helpless not to. He whimpers when Keith dips a point of his tongue into Shiro's slit.

 

"That's it. Look how hard you are for me."

 

Keith takes him into his mouth again, sucking at the tip. Shiro bows up with a shout, pulling hard on Keith's hair. Keith retreats again to lick and lap along the length of Shiro's cock. He hums.

 

"You taste so good. Have you ever tasted yourself, Shiro?"

 

Shiro blinks and then slowly shakes his head. His brow creases in a way that's so at odds with the ragged noise that falls from his mouth when Keith takes him in again.

 

Keith leans up, settling in Shiro's lap. He cradles Shiro's chin, claws pressing delicately against the skin there. He slots his mouth over Shiro's and licks in when Shiro gasps wildly.

 

The noise Shiro makes at the taste of his own precum is hot and heady. It makes Keith's chest fill with heat and hunger.

 

"So good." Keith purrs as he strokes Shiro. "Tell me how my mouth felt, Shiro."

 

Shiro's eyes fall shut again and Keith tuts. He lets his claws drag over Shiro's jaw firmly. Red lines appear in their wake and Shiro hisses at the sting. His lashes flutter apart and he meets Keith's eyes reluctantly.

 

"Tell me," Keith twists his wrist and relishes the way Shiro's hips buck. "How my throat felt wrapped around your cock, _Father_."

 

Shiro's throat works.

 

"G-good. So good. _Please._ "

 

Keith bares his fangs in a savage smile. He stuffs his pants into an adjacent realm and positions Shiro's cock. Shiro's eyes go wide as Keith lets his facade fade a little.

 

" _What are you?"_

 

Keith huffs a laugh as Shiro's cockhead breaches him.

 

"Your ruination." He sinks down in one smooth motion.

 

Shiro shouts and it's a strangled noise that Keith swallows with his mouth. He sets a brutal pace that makes the tiny room echo with the slick, loud sound of skin slapping against skin.

 

Keith feasts on Shiro's aura, on the energy and life that burns so brightly in him. It's intoxicating. Shiro's chest heaves with stuttering breaths. His eyes dip down to where he sinks into Keith before flicking up to stare at Keith's glowing eyes and then back down. His fingers dig into Keith's hips hard. His hips meet Keith's with reckless fervor.

 

Sweat makes Shiro's dark hair stick to his forehead. The shreds of his robe hang off of his elbows and shoulders. Pink lines from Keith's claws adorn his cheeks and chest. Keith arches, dragging his hand down his body to touch himself. He holds Shiro's eyes as he brings himself to orgasm.

 

Shiro groans hotly as Keith ripples around him, milking his cock hungrily. He bows against the creaking bench as he comes. Keith takes it all. He luxuriates in the hot stickiness of Shiro's cum seeping out of him. He moans as he feasts and comes again.

 

After a moment, Keith eases his way off of Shiro. He takes a moment to admire Shiro's softening cock and the mess over his lap. He leans in again and sucks Shiro's lower lip between his fangs before pulling away.

 

"Looks like you need to visit a confessional, _Father_."

 

Shiro gapes, gasping. Keith smirks and dresses himself.

 

"See you Sunday, Father."

 

With that, Keith gathers his corporeal form and blinks back outside.

 

His whole body _hums_ with satiation. He licks his lips and spares a glance over his shoulder. He'll be back. Shiro's addiction to him already tugged at his core.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Father, I do believe your sermons come across as hypocritical.” Keith’s cock nudges against him. “Asking your flock to repent all their sins when you, yourself, are full of them.”
> 
> Shiro bites the inside of his cheek and smothers the moan that rattles in his throat. He shakes his head in denial. Keith’s grin is sharp and glittering.
> 
> “Deny it all you want. Lying is a sin. So is lust. And you’re full.” Keith flattens his palms on the insides of Shiro’s thighs. “Or, at least, you’re about to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the changes that will continue to happen in the Warnings and Tags!

Shiro can’t focus. 

 

His notes for the sermon are shaky and disorganized in their binder. The line of post-it notes in his Bible is awry. His fingers twitch where they rest on the faded yellow pages.

 

It’s not particularly warm in the church hall. The furnace never seemed to be able to heat the room completely. Yet sweat made the collar of Shiro’s robes stick to the back of neck. He tamps down on the urge to adjust the heavy vestments. The scratches and bite marks from that shadowed night in the confessional have faded and don’t show above his collar.

 

Still, Shiro swears that he can feel the sting of them as he looks out over his flock and delivers his sermon.

 

He recognizes a great deal of the faces in the pews. 

 

There are the Holts in the second row. Katie has just returned from her last year at the police academy. She’s grown in her time away; no longer the tiny wisp of a thing that sought out trouble like a magnet does to pins. Matt looks older as well. His sandy hair is shorter than it had been back in college. Sam Holt sits at the end of the aisle, head bowed solemnly as he listens to the word of God. 

 

Shiro glances down at the post-it note in the middle of the verse he’s reading before lifting it to continue.

 

He leads the flock in a moment of silent prayer for those who are ill, ailing, and in need. 

 

Over the top of his notes, he spots the tremble in the line of Katie’s shoulders. He closes his eyes against the wave of sadness and prays that Colleen gets better. For her sake. For that of her children and husband. 

 

Shiro lifts his head and asks a few volunteers to take up a collection. He uses the time to let his flock bring up their wishes for prayer. 

 

Sam rises from his pew, shoulders stiff and face drawn. The shadows under his eyes are dark and deep. Shiro’s heart twists.

 

“I’d like to thank everyone for their kind and hopeful words during this time. Colleen is doing...She continues to fight. The doctors have begun a new treatment. They’re hoping that it’s more beneficial than the last one was. I’d like to ask for your continued prayers. Thank you.”

 

Shiro thanks him and nods at the next to rise. He listens to everyone, eyes sweeping over the pews.

 

Thin light filters through the stained glass windows. It collects in colorful pools along the side aisles. The tiny flames of votive candles flicker and dance behind red glass. Shadows cling to the corners of the hall and fill the entryway. Something moves in them and Shiro feels himself freeze.

 

The man moves like a predator. He stalks up from the entryway and sinks into the furthest pew. 

 

Dark hair curls around ears ringed in piercings. One knee draws up, the heel of his boot knocking soundlessly against the old wood of the bench. The leather of his jacket creases as one arm lazily drapes over his knee. He levels his dark gaze over the pews, over the flock’s heads and meets Shiro’s eyes. His lips curve lasciviously.

 

Shiro’s knuckles crack from how firmly he grips the edges of his pedestal. He swallows and tries to ignore the ghost of sharp fingertips raking down his chest. He presses on with his sermon and tries to keep his gaze from the shadowed pew at the back of the hall.

 

Time drags. Shiro’s tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth. The fabric of his robe feels coarse and too heavy. Sweat makes the pages of the Bible stick to his palms. He presses on, keeping his eyes on his notes and the small, bold print of the old pages in front of him. 

 

During the hymns, Shiro fights the urge to look up and back. It’s a hook behind his eyes that tugs relentlessly.  _ Look at me _ , It’s a hoarse whisper that’s hot and traces along his ear like a tongue.

 

He closes with one last prayer and hymn. The flock rustles as they gather themselves and file into the aisles. 

 

Shiro carefully shuts his sermon notes and rests his Bible atop the binder. His knuckles pale around the gilded pages before he steps from behind the pedestal and leads his flock toward the entryway. 

 

His feet feel like they’re dragging through concrete. The heat under his skin grows with every step he takes toward the man in the last pew. Shiro grits his teeth and keeps his gaze averted as he passes. 

 

Rain falls outside, misting over the cracked concrete and tar. Cars pass, wheels casting water up onto the sidewalks. Streetlights flicker on in the darkness beneath the blanket of clouds. 

 

Shiro stands in the doorway and bids each member of his flock farewell. 

 

The Holts are some of the last to leave. 

 

Sam shakes Shiro’s hand firmly. 

“I’ll keep Mrs. Holt in my prayers, sir.”

 

“Thank you, Shiro.” Sam nods before heading down the stairs and to the car on the curb.

 

Matt pulls Shiro into a hug. His eyes are ringed in shadow much like his father’s. The collar of his shirt is wrinkled beneath his jacket’s lapels. Sandy stubble rides the curve of his jaw. He pulls back and his smile is drawn and shaky.

 

“Mom would love it if you stopped by. I’ll text you the room number. One of us is always there. She’d really be happy to see you.”

 

Katie is silent beside her brother. Her brow is furrowed, the freckles over her nose and cheeks pale against the pallor of her skin. She holds herself stiffly as she glances back into the church. Her nose wrinkles faintly.

 

“Right, Pidge?” 

 

Matt’s voice pulls her focus away. Her hazel eyes flicker to him and then Shiro. She jams her hands into the pockets of her coat.

 

“Yeah.” The word hangs in the air and Katie looks like she wants to say more but she shakes her head. “C’mon, Matt. Dad’s waiting.”

 

The pair of them hasten for the unmarked sedan at the curb. Shiro lifts a hand in one last goodbye before shutting the door. It falls against the threshold with a resounding crash.He lets his fingers drag over the grooves within the old wood before turning.

 

The man hadn’t passed him to leave. He remembers the way the man had flickered in and out of existence like static on a television screen. Maybe he’d left like that. 

 

The heat that crawls over his skin with every step toward the hall makes him doubt that, though.

 

Shiro breaches the doorway. His heart stutters inside of his chest. 

 

The man roams around the front of the church. There’s something about his movements that makes something in the back of Shiro’s mind prickle with unease. 

 

Shiro watches the man dip his fingers in the communion wine. The red liquid clings to them, rolling down in sticky droplets. The man looks up then and fixes on him with dark eyes. Those long, slender fingers lift. They drag over his lips before he opens his mouth and takes them in.

 

Heat crashes through Shiro. It rolls beneath his skin in fiery waves and makes his cock twitch beneath all of his layers of clothing. He can taste the ghost of those lips on his, can feel the scrape of too-sharp teeth against his mouth.

 

The man pulls his fingers free with a lewd, wet noise and holds them out in the air between them. They curl in a beckoning motion and Shiro feels his feet move.

 

He stumbles at the foot of the dias, resisting the urge to climb the steps and lap at those fingers to see if they still tasted like wine. Every breath burns in his lungs. His body aches. He tries to find words, to focus his mouth into shaping them.

 

“What are you? Who are you?”

 

The man’s lips crook and he shakes his head. He swirls his fingers through the wine before lifting the chalice and sipping. A hiss rattles through his teeth after he swallows.

 

“I’ve already answered that first one.”

 

He saunters around the Altar and rakes his gaze over Shiro. Something in his eyes flickers and Shiro swears that he sees gold burn around the dark irises. 

 

“You ignored me through your whole sermon, Father. Are you usually so dismissive of your flock?” The man leans back against the Altar.

 

His dark jeans are tight. Pale skin peeks through in spots. The zip is halfway down and Shiro can see the thick line of the man’s cock against his hip. His mouth waters and he drags his eyes back up.

 

It’s too late, though. The man smirks at him and subtly rolls his hips.

 

“Hmm, Father? Do you usually ignore the neediest of your flock? Or am I  _ special?” _

 

“You- You’re not- I don’t-”

 

“What’s got your tongue? I know it’s not me.” The man dips his fingers into the wine again. “Just like I know that you’ve been thinking  _ all  _ about me since our tryst.”

 

Shiro shakes his head futilely. He can feel his cheeks heating.

 

“ _ Liar. _ ” The man croons, like it’s an endearment. “I can feel how you hunger for me. I can smell it. I can see it. It’s all over you, Father Shirogane. It’s written into your aura like a flashing neon sign.”

 

“W-what is?”

 

The man leans over the stairs and Shiro feels himself sway forward helplessly. Clawed fingertips skate over his jaw and push into his hair. Hot, wine-stained lips brush over his own. The touch is barely there, just enough to tease. Shiro chases after it.

 

The man grins, a flash of too-white teeth in the dim light cast from the votives. He pulls Shiro in and slots his mouth over Shiro’s. He tastes like wine and cloves and something that makes Shiro’s mind go hazy. 

 

Teeth tug at Shiro’s lower lip before the man pulls back and purrs.

 

“That you’re  _ starving. For. It. _ ”

 

Shiro can’t help the sound that bubble in his throat. He pulls at the buttons of his vestments. The heavy robes fall from his shoulders. Hot, nimble fingers help him. They drag over his belly and pull the undershirt over his head. They make quick work of his slack’s fly and shove the stiff fabric down and off.

 

Those same hands curl over his hips, inhumanly strong as they slam his back against the Altar’s edge. They lift the chalice of communion wine, claws ticking against the stem.

 

Wine pours over Shiro’s chest. It’s cool as it cascades down his front. He gasps at the sensation, body arching. The chalice clatters against the stone and the man’s tongue flicks out over the hollow of Shiro’s throat.

 

“You can call me Keith, by the way. So you have something to scream when I make you come.”

 

Shiro whines when Keith scrapes his teeth over his nipple.

 

“ _ Keith, _ ” He breathes, hands shaking where they’re locked around the edge of the Altar.

 

“Mhmmm. Say it again.” Keith laps his way down Shiro’s chest.

 

His thumbs dig into Shiro’s hips. Soft hair tickles against his belly. That split tongue dips into his navel. Thick black lashes flick up, framing eyes that gleam with threads of gold. Wine-red lips follow the line of hair that leads down his belly. Sharp teeth test the give of his hipbone.

 

“Say my name, Shiro.” Keith wraps his still-sticky fingers around Shiro’s cock.

 

He flicks his tongue over the head and hums when a bead of precum smears over his lips. Gold encircles his iris, gleaming in the shadow Shiro casts. He holds Shiro’s gaze as he swallows Shiro’s cock in one quick movement.

 

It’s hot, wet, tight. Keith’s tongue laves against his base. His breath runs hot over the wet paths he left with his mouth. Shiro can feel the squeeze of Keith’s throat around him. Can feel the vibration when Keith hums like a contented cat and rakes his claws down Shiro’s chest. The marks replace the faded ones and Shiro arches, groaning raggedly.

 

“Keith. Oh, God-”

 

Keith pulls off sharply. His claws prick at the back of Shiro’s legs.

 

“Keep His name out of your mouth. He’s not the one fucking you.”

 

Without warning, Keith  _ lifts _ . 

 

Shiro yelps as he falls back. Holy sacraments scatter and fall off the sides of the Altar. The altar-cloth is rough beneath his back and sticks to his skin. His tailbone presses uncomfortably into the hard edge before Keith grips his hips and  _ pulls _ .

 

Wine-damp fingers pull his cheeks apart and Shiro flushes, thighs trying to shut. 

 

Keith snarls. It’s a low, animalistic noise that makes shivers skitter down Shiro’s spine. He pushes Shiro’s thighs apart and purrs as he just....Stares.

 

Shiro squirms, fingers sliding in the fabric of the altar-cloth. His cock leaks over his belly. Precum seeps over his abs and rolls down his side to stain the red material atop the Altar. He keens when Keith’s thumbs press against his rim and slowly drag apart. A hot tongue slides over him and Shiro can’t stop the way his whole body jerks.

 

“I’m going to ruin you, Takashi Shirogane.” Keith’s voice rumbles against him in between licks. “I’m going to fuck this little hole of yours. First with my tongue-”

 

Keith’s tongue presses past his rim and wrings a shout from him.

 

“Then with my fingers.” A blunt fingertip pushes against his rim and teases the muscle.”Then...With my cock.”

 

Shiro squeezes his eyes shut tight and bites his lip against the whimper that threatens to slip from between his teeth. His jaw drops as Keith licks him open. It’s slick, hot. Keith’s tongue pushes in in-between laps and sucks, wriggling against his rim and walls. 

 

Keith leans up and drags his tongue over Shiro’s balls. Shiro arches and groans when he feels the pad of a finger breach him.

 

“Look at you. Already so open and hot from just my mouth. You want my cock so badly.” 

 

Shiro whines and turns his face into the altar-cloth. His nails catch on loose threads as he searches for an anchor. Another finger joins the first and Shiro moans brokenly into the rough material.

 

“Greedy.” Keith makes the word sound sweet, like a virtue. 

 

_ Desperate _ , Shiro thinks. 

 

Keith’s fingers spread in him, hold him open as they pull out. He wipes the excess wetness along Shiro’s thigh and straightens.

 

Shiro swallows hard as Keith reaches up and grips his chin. 

 

“Look.” It’s a growl, low and compulsory. 

 

Keith’s still fully-clothed. His jacket hangs open. His shirt is thin and threadbare in spots, the heathered cloth a deep red. The fly of his jeans is finally opened the whole way. The dark denim has fallen wide, revealing bare skin dusted with dark hair. 

 

Keith’s cock bobs between Shiro’s legs, thick and flushed. Precum wells from the slit in the crown and Shiro is struck with the sudden need to  _ taste _ . His mouth waters as Keith takes himself in-hand and smears the head over his hole.

 

Shiro rolls into it, breath hitching on something too close to a sob for his comfort. 

 

“Father, I do believe your sermons come across as hypocritical.” Keith’s cock nudges against him. “Asking your flock to repent all their sins when you, yourself, are full of them.”

 

Shiro bites the inside of his cheek and smothers the moan that rattles in his throat. He shakes his head in denial. Keith’s grin is sharp and glittering.

 

“Deny it all you want. Lying is a sin. So is lust. And you’re  _ full _ .” Keith flattens his palms on the insides of Shiro’s thighs. “Or, at least, you’re about to be.”

 

It’s all the warning he’s given before Keith’s cockhead catches on his rim and sinks inside.

 

The stretch burns and makes white buzz behind Shiro’s lids. His cock twitches on his belly. Precum slicks the skin there and drips over his hip. He reaches for himself desperately.

 

Keith bats his wrist away with a hiss.

 

“You’re  _ mine _ to touch, Shiro.  _ I _ get to decide when you come.  _ If _ you come.”

 

Shiro can’t control the sob that claws out of his throat. Keith seems to relish in it, though.

 

He withdraws and slams his hips forward. Shiro slides on the altar-cloth. The Altar groans under the movement. Almost the like the church, itself, is objecting to this unholy union. Shameful heat flares in the pit of Shiro’s belly.

 

Keith’s claws dig into his hips. The sting only makes his slide into Shiro that much headier. He yanks Shiro back to the edge of the Altar when he slides too far up. His eyes are locked between Shiro’s legs, watching the way Shiro’s cock bobs and dribbles over his belly. His eyes dip before lifting to snag on Shiro’s.

 

“You’re so greedy. I can feel you clenching around me.” Keith’s lips curl into something that’s more of a snarl than a smile. “My cock looks so good, stretching your little hole. You’re all pink and wet, Shiro. I can feel you sucking at me. You want me to come in you?”

 

Shiro’s sob pitches into a cry when Keith angles his hips and hits something inside of him. He bows and tries to plant his heels to get away. It’s too much.  _ Too good. Too much. _

 

Keith keeps him still and snaps his hips harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes off the church walls. The wet squelch of his hole around Keith’s cock is just as loud and twice as filthy. He can’t help the noises that fall from his lips as Keith fucks him relentlessly.

 

“Beg me, Shiro.” Keith yanks him back to the edge of the Altar and zeroes in on that spot. “Beg me to come in you.”

 

It’s hot and it  _ burns _ and Shiro wants it to stop, to stop, to never, ever _ , ever stop _ .

 

“Please. Keith. Please.  _ Please, come in me. _ Keith.” Shiro can’t stop the words from tumbling out once he’s said them. 

 

They spill out on desperate cries and moans as Keith somehow increases the pace and strength of his thrusts. Shiro clutches for an anchor. His fingers fist in the old altar-cloth. 

 

Something crashes to the floor behind the Altar and Shiro can’t bring himself to care when Keith wraps his fingers around Shiro’s cock and pumps.

 

Keith’s hips slam against his ass and stutter in their rhythm. He groans, the sound rumbling in his chest like a growl. There’s another, bassier, wilder tone under it that makes Shiro’s skin prick. Heat seeps between his legs and leaks from where Keith’s still rutting into him. Cum. Keith came in him. Was coming in him.

 

Shiro’s scream of Keith’s name is strangled. 

 

He comes over his belly and chest, cum pooling on his overheated skin. He can feel himself shaking. His lungs refuse to catch a full breath. 

 

Keith pulls out and Shiro feels liquid heat leak between his thighs. It rolls down the crack of his ass before Keith’s fingers catch it and push it past his rim again.

 

“Chaste, noble, virtuous Father Shirogane… Sprawled over the Holy Altar of Garrison Church like a whore in heat. Full of a demon’s cum and still begging for more. What would your flock think of you, if they saw you like this, Father?”

 

Shiro’s heart pounds with fear and humiliation. He lifts his head and scrambles to cover himself.

 

The church is empty.

 

Shiro’s eyes dart around in search of Keith before he casts a look around himself.

 

The altar-cloth is rucked up beneath him, stained with sweat and more unmentionable things. The communion wine chalice is dented where it rests beneath a pew. Holy Sacraments lay scattered on the dias and stairs. Crumbs of communion wafers are settled into the rug. A small figurine of Jesus on the cross lies behind the Altar, tipped upside-down.

 

Shiro shudders and tries to hold himself together as he eases off of the Altar. Cum slips down between his thighs. His hole aches emptily and he closes his eyes against the sensation as he wraps himself in his vestments and begins to clean up the mess as best he can.

 

What would his flock think of him if they saw him?

 

What was Keith if not a demon?

 

Shiro winces as he straightens. He limps past his pedestal and hesitates. He hadn’t left his Bible open. But the gilded pages rest wide upon the pedestal. 

 

A half-curled-up post-it note clings to the page beside a passage. Isaiah 14: 12-15. 

 

Shiro slams the pages shut and hurries into the safety of the church’s hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isaiah 14: 12-15
> 
> 12 How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations! 13 You said in your heart, “I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. 14 I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.” 15 But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit.
> 
> Leave your speculations down in the comments :D


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